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"I'm bored," I said one night over dinner. My husband cocked an eyebrow up at me with his mouth full.

"I'm sorry," he replied.

"No, I don't mean that I'm bored because I have nothing to do," I countered. "I've very happy with our life together. I'm bored with the way I look."

He had always told me I looked beautiful, even when I was sure he was full of it. 

"I'm happy with the way you look," he said, "but what do you want to change?"

"I think I need a wardrobe update."

"We're doing pretty well financially," he said, "so, why not? Why don't you take $2000 and spend it on clothes?"

"$2000!" I exclaimed. I'm such a cheapskate. "I can't spend that much on myself."

After some back and forth and arm-twisting I gave in. We planned the shopping trip for that weekend at the local mall. I consulted employees in every store for advice on the latest trends. I found myself initially grimacing at some of the styles I tried on, but ultimately decided to open my mind and roll with it. The 80's clothing trends were coming back in a big way and I never noticed until now. By the end of the day I had a completely new wardrobe. I got several pairs of sexy heals, a couple slinky party dresses, some evening dresses, skinny jeans, oversize sweaters, high-waisted skirts, jumpsuits and a bunch of leggings, to mention a few, along with accessories such as belts, tights and big dangly earrings. I had alot of fun that day. I couldn't believe the magnitude of the style change I'd experienced in one day, but it was exciting. I made the decision to permanently retire 90% of my old clothes.

That night I modeled every outfit for Steve. It took me awhile to realize how turned on he was by the whole experience. He actually made me model everything again the next night so he could take pictures.

After a few days of enjoying the new me I began to feel like I had only done a half-assed job of making myself over. I hadn't done anything with my hair. In fact I've had the same style since high school. Don't get me wrong, my hair is fabulous. It's dark brown, thick, straight, and almost down to my waist - all one length. One night while getting ready for bed I was staring at myself in the mirror wondering why I all of a sudden had the desire to change my perfect hair. I guess it didn't really fit with my new look, but I had no idea what I should do, or could bring myself to do.

"Honey?"

"Yes?" he asked.

"Do you like the new me?"

"Of course," he said, "you look great. Why?"

"Do you like my hair?"

"I love your hair, I always have. Your hair is perfect."

"I think I need to do something different with it. I mean, I love it, too, but I think it's time for a change."

"What did you have in mind?" he asked with a little nervousness in his voice.

"I don't know," I said, with a little desperation in mine.

"Why don't you sleep on it," he suggested. "We can talk about it some more tomorrow."

He was gone to work when I got up, but I was still preoccupied with thoughts of my hair. After a busy day at work I still had this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach with no answers. Thank God it's Friday, I thought.

Steve and I got home about the same time. He saw the unsettled look in my eyes and gave me a hug. Then he handed me three sealed envelopes.

"What's this?" I asked.

"I made you a hair appointment," he said. "It's for tomorrow at 11 o'clock. In the envelopes are the descriptions of three different hairstyles. It's your choice which one. Or you could decide to do nothing."

I went to open the first envelope and then stopped myself. "Can I keep it a surprise?" I could feel the excitement and anticipation rising in my throat.

"Absolutely," he said. "That'll make it even more fun. But I'm going with you this time."

I had a hard time falling asleep that night. The thought of being completely surprised by a new hairdo was both scarry and enticing. I woke up late and drank a stiff coffee. I chose a black sequined tunic top with a pair of shiny gold leggings and 5 inch black heals. We didn't say a word on the car ride to the salon. I was too anxious to speak. If he was, he hid it well.

"Hi, I'm Kate, I have an appointment," I said to the receptionist. She escorted me back to the salon and introduced me to my stylist, Anna.

"What are we doing today?" she asked.

"Restyle," I said. "My hair has been this way as long as I can remember. I've just done a complete wardrobe overhaul and how it's my hair's turn. My husband described three styles in these envelopes and I'm going to choose at random. I have no idea what I'm in for. I'm just excited for a change."

"Great," she said. "Bold. I like it."

OPTION 1:

I pulled out the envelopes and handed her the one with a large number 1 written on it. She opened it and said nothing to give away what was written inside. She simply began combing my hair. She took out the scissors and trimmed the very ends of my hair removing only the split ends. Once this was done she came around the front and combed my hair forward until I could see nothing but a sheet of dark brown. Then I saw something. The blade of her scissors right in front of my eyes. Snip, snip, snip. I could see again. What I saw in the mirror was bangs. Very thick bangs. She cut across again, evening them up at eyebrow level and leaving them ever so slightly longer at the temples. Before long it was over. I stared at myself with wide eyes. A smile broached my lips. My eyes and cheekbones jumped out like never before.

"I love it!" I exclaimed.

I leaped up and hugged my husband. His smile was making cracks in his face. As we headed toward the door I couldn't help but wonder what was in the other two envelopes that I had left on the stylist's counter unopened.

OPTION 2:

Rewind a half hour.

I pulled out the number 2 envelope and handed it to her. She opened it and made no indication to its contents. She took out a large pair of scissors, gathered my hair in a tight pony tail, and closed the scissors at the base of the pony tail. I gasped. I think my heart stopped for a few seconds. She held up the 16" long ponytail in victory and I smiled after regaining my breath. She motioned me out of the chair and over to the sink where she washed my hair. After returning to the chair I was still somewhat in shock, but my heartrate had begun to slow to sustainable levels. She caped me and pinned my wet hair up on top of my head. She told me to lean foreward and began to scissor cut the back. It must have been quite short because I could feel the blades against my scalp as they cut. She released my hair and pinned another layer on top and started cutting the new layer. When she finished the back she came around the the sides still cutting very short over my ears. At last she released the top layer and held it up to cut each section. The longest sections were no more that 3 inches and the bangs came to a rest about a half inch above my eyebrows. She continued to blend the top and sides to created a very short, very feminine pixie cut. She grabbed a straight razor to clean up the neck line and finished off with some mousse and a blow drier.

After she removed the cape I stood up and looked at my new cut from every angle. It looked stunning. I hugged Anna and thanked her graciously.

My husband loved it too. I had no idea he had ever considered me with short hair. As we walked to the door I couldn't help but wonder what was in the other two envelopes I had left on her counter.

OPTION 3:

Rewind again.

I removed the envelopes from my purse and handed her the one marked "3". She opened it and turned away for a minute. She returned with scissors and grabbed my hair in her hand and severed it at base of my neck. I gasped but regained my composure. I should have assumed that cutting my hair might actually mean cutting it. We made a trip to the wash sink and returned to finish the cut. The cape was slung over my shoulders. She began by picking up the long hair on top and cutting it very short, between 3 and 4 inches. She continued this all over the top of my head. It look like a shaggy kind of mess at first. She then moved to the sides were she cut the hair even shorter, in some areas less than an inch. When she finished my ears were completely exposed and a shock of sideburn was left in front of the ears. The sides were blended seamlessly to the longer hair on top. Finally she tackled the back, but rather than cutting it short like the sides, she cut several progressively longer layers as she went down, the longest of which reached just past the bottom of my neck. After a few minor touch-ups I was ready for styling. She took out a curling iron and curled up the hair in the back to give a softer, more feminine appearance. On top she parted it on the right side and used a ton of hairspray and gel with a blow-dryer to give my hair more volume. At last she was done. She removed the cape and stared at my new cut from all angles. I had a mullet, and it looked fantastic. A very 80's look to go with my new wardrobe. I smiled from ear to ear.

My husband was smiling too. He kissed me and as we made our way out I couldn't help but wonder what was in the other envelopes I had left on the counter.

OPTION 4:

Rewind yet again.

I handed her the three envelopes. "I can't decide," I said. "You pick."

She opened them and read each one by one. Finally she looked up and said, "I have an idea. How open-minded are you?"

"Well, I'm about to leave my beautiful hair completely to chance. I think that makes me pretty open-minded."

"How about option 4?" she said, "but option 4 is not for the faint of heart."

How could I resist that with all that I had been feeling in the last 36 hours? I looked back at Steve. He was on the edge of his seat. I could tell he was curious too. "I want option 4," I said. 

"Excellent choice," she said, and placed the cape around my neck. She reached into one of her drawers and pulled out a pair of clippers. I had only seen them used on TV, and I knew what they were for. She took the guard off and switched them on. I jumped a little. 

"Now's the time to change your mind," she said.

I gulped. "No. I'm ready," I lied.

She moved the hungry clippers to my forehead and pushed back gently. I stiffened and then relaxed. The vibration was exquisite. Again and again she plowed from front to back and I caught myself starting to moan. I cleared my throat and hoped she hadn't noticed. She moved to the back and pushed them up from nape to crown. I hadn't opened my eyes since she started, and as she switched them off I opened and stared at the mirror. My jaw dropped to the floor. I looked down and saw a carpet of long hair below me. She took a towel soaked in very hot water and placed it on my head. This was so relaxing. I felt all the evil humors leaving through my scalp. Next she massaged shaving gel all over my head and with long smooth strokes of her straight razor she removed every strand of hair. She felt thoroughly over my scalp and removed and strays she had left, and finished off with a sweet smelling moisturizing cream. This treatment was heavenly. 

"I recommend coming in weekly for touch-ups," she said. I nodded, still staring at the mirror in disbelief. 

I stood on wobbly knees and steadied myself. My head was beautifully shaped and my neck, which had been hiding under my hair all these years was long and slender and graceful. My husband walked over and felt my head with shaking hands. "You look amazing," he said. 

As we walked out I thought, who cares what was in those envelopes. This is the best haircut I've ever had. I had to drive home because Steve couldn't keep his eyes on the road. 

"Don't ever grow your hair back," he said.

"Well, I guess I should look into laser hair removal then," I responded, to which he grinned sheepishly.

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